Yours
by Maddux
Summary: Bella gets a job at the movie theater. AU. AH. Mature. One shot. Re-post.


**Yours**

by Maddux

* * *

**FAIRFINE CINEMA: PART TIME HELP WANTED**

Everyone was younger than me, and I felt completely out of place. And I usually got stuck in the booth selling movie tickets. I never got concession stand duty. Or ticket stub taker.

I didn't mind the ticket booth so much. It was just the whole... having to get a job in a movie theater that bothered me the most. Believe me; I'd looked for a job that fit my qualifications. There was nothing available at this time for a twenty-eight year old software developer whose former employer went under after only four years of mediocre success. Times for Bella Swan were not good and didn't look like they were going to get better any time soon.

At least the monotony didn't take a lot of brain power.

I was drifting away on hazy daydreams, absently braiding my long, drab brown hair, when I heard squeaking.

Really annoying squeaking.

The janitor had washed my booth window and was using a squeegee to wipe it dry.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

Now, Mr. Masen, the janitor, was a puzzle to me. He was the oldest person I'd seen working in the theater. Probably in his mid-thirties, he just oozed the look of a street-living hobo. Greasy, unkempt hair, dirty fingernails, wrinkled and torn overalls, and shoes that looked like they'd been worn out ten years ago.

I'd also seen him frequenting the Soup Kitchen downtown where I volunteered throughout the week.

I watched him work. There were no customers waiting out front to get tickets. Just Mr. Masen and his squeegee.

A strange feeling ricocheted through me as my brown eyes met his through the glass. He may have looked like a hobo, but his eyes were clear and wonderfully, distinctly green. My breath caught as I gazed at him. He gazed right back.

Very surprising.

His smile was even more surprising. My pulse yammered wildly at my throat.

Mr. Masen was a handsome hobo.

I frowned and wondered what I would do with this new information.

Mr. Masen's smile faltered at my frown; he continued washing the windows as if our exchange didn't happen.

Disappointment at his leaving caught me by surprise. I stared after him, watching as he worked and finished all the windows out front. No, it wasn't his leaving that brought on the disappointment, it was the loss of eye contact... and the loss of his smile.

I covertly watched Mr. Masen a lot after that day. He was more than just a janitor. He was like a behind-the-scenes manager. He was the one who ordered supplies. His were the keys that locked the doors every night. He made out work schedules and assigned shifts.

But he was still the janitor. Maybe he was an assistant manager...

I didn't know if he was the one to sign our paychecks, since my earnings went straight to my bank account through direct deposit. Still... I had to wonder about the guy. I asked a girl, fresh out of high school who worked the concession stand, about Mr. Masen. She rolled her eyes at me, popping her Bubblicious from her gaping yaw of a mouth. "That dude?" she intonated. "He's weird."

And weird was the same answer I got from the rest of the theater staff. Stupid, inarticulate kids.

I saw him at the Soup Kitchen again. I was working in the serving line. He was talking with some men, who were having lunch, and he seemed to know them well; they were all laughing together. Then Mr. Masen said his goodbyes to the men and picked up a dish crate. He was clearing the tables. That's when I figured out that he wasn't there for the off-the-hook processed meatloaf the kitchen was serving up.

Cleaning tables? What was this guy doing here?

It made my heart race when I looked up from my chores to find him watching me. Mr. Masen was wearing a slight smile when his eyes skidded away from my direction.

* * *

"Can someone please come and help me? I've got a situation in theater five," the walkie on my counter squawked. I didn't pay it much attention. The ushers usually had things like this under control. I was selling tickets, anyway. Not that there was anyone waiting for a ticket at two in the afternoon.

But the usher, Jack, or whoever he was, kept asking for help. "There are two people going at it in the back row. Like rabbits. I need backup. And rubber gloves."

I rolled my eyes and snorted. Looking back at the concessions stand, there were a few kids lounging around slurping on fountain drinks. A young usher was standing by the door, picking his nose, most likely. I knew they'd all heard the distress call. Why wouldn't any of them go and help?

Oh! What light through yonder window breaks? It was Mr. Masen to save the day. He strode through the lobby in his beat-up overalls, overburdened key ring jangling at his hip, flashlight and walkie talkie strapped to his utility belt. He disappeared down the hallway in the direction of theater five.

I snickered and shook my head, wondering what ghastly scene Mr. Masen was about to break up.

A few minutes later, Mr. Masen was escorting a couple to the door. He had the fellow by the scruff of his neck, and the girl by the elbow. Mr. Masen was unsmiling as he released them outside the front entrance.

He watched and made sure they left the premises, then he turned around and looked at me. His eyes did that strange sparkling dance as they looked me over.

"Something funny?" he asked with a half smile.

I laughed. "Kids," I said.

He took up residence at the door to my small booth. Funny, but I always pictured him hunched over a mop or broom or vacuum cleaner, and never this tall and broad shouldered. I was starting to feel... the slightest bit attracted to Mr. Masen. Weird Mr. Masen, janitor extraordinaire, with clear green eyes, who volunteered at the Soup Kitchen.

"Why do you stay and put up with this kind of thing?" I asked him.

His eyebrows rose in sync with his shoulder, as he propped himself against the doorjamb. "Why do you?"

"Not much choice. Not a lot of options," I explained. "Do you stay for the same reasons?"

His smile was introspective as he shook his head. "No. That's not why I choose to be here."

"Oh. So you could be elsewhere... if you wanted?"

"That's right."

"Well... Why stay here? If you can choose to get away from such a thankless, dead end job, why don't you?"

His gaze was even and crystal clear as he regarded me. "I believe the answer lies within one's attitude. When I come through these doors every morning and the windows are sparkling and the carpet is spotless, I know that our patrons will have a great first impression of their community's movie theater. When the aisles aren't sticky and there are no leftover popcorn kernels lying around beneath our customers' feet, they'll have a pleasant movie experience. When the bathrooms are clean and fully stocked with paper towels and toilet paper, people remember that. People come back because of those things. We don't have a job if people don't come back. And the theater is a novelty in a town like this. It is a needed asset. My job isn't thankless. Far from it."

My shame was instant. Mr. Masen didn't deliver his whole spiel to make me feel bad. His words conveyed how very differently he viewed life. Never in my life had I ever felt this shallow.

"Attitude," I nodded, looking away from him. "I suppose that's the truest thing I've heard since I lost my job. Maybe even before then."

I admired Mr. Masen's attitude. He went about his thankless job with a quiet enthusiasm and tireless dedication. How could I not admire that in a man?

Weeks later, I was caught up in daydreams, my movements automatic as I made change, printed out two adult tickets for this, five tickets for that. Credit card receipts. Ticket stubs.

"Two tickets for Jayne Eyre. For the nine-twenty showing."

That gave me pause. It was only 4:01 PM.

For the first time that afternoon I looked up into the face of a customer. The customer had vivid, clear eyes set in a familiar face.

"Mr. Masen?" I asked, completely taken by surprise to see him at my window.

His smile was easy, breathtaking.

"Good afternoon, Bella."

I grinned and rang up two tickets for the correct movie and showing time.

"Sixteen dollars… unless you're supposed to get an employee discount?"

He pursed his lips, shook his head as he slipped the money through the small opening in my window. Correct change. Handsome hands, which were clean.

I collected his tickets and passed them back. He went to step away so the next customer could move up in the line, but he hesitated.

His brows came together as he glanced at the tickets in his hand. He pushed one ticket back through my window. Speechless and confused, I stared at his hand.

"Accompany me, Bella."

His hand stayed in place and my heart pounded with force behind my ribs. This was big. Something had shifted. Something that hadn't been there before shifted within me.

Unbelieving what was softly, slowly unfurling before my very eyes, I laid my hand on top of his and the ticket. His fingers slid against my sensitive palm as he took his hand away, leaving the ticket in place. Finally looking into his eyes, all I could do was gape at him.

He smiled at me again and walked away.

Did Mr. Masen just… ask me out?

I didn't have time to think it over as the next customer approached. But I took that ticket and looked at it like it was something precious. I carefully put it into the zippered side pocket of my little black purse.

The rest of the evening passed me by like I was floating away on fluffy cotton clouds.

At nine, my shift ended. I left the booth and became so attuned to the happenings and sensations around me. The smell of buttered popcorn at the concessions stand, groups of people milling about the clean, well-kept lobby with its crazy, festive carpeting, arcade games going haywire in the playroom.

And Mr. Masen waiting for me, quiet and solitary, in the middle of the busy lobby. His hair was clean, washed soft and falling gently over his forehead. His slacks were pressed and his button-down was undone at the neck. He stood with effortless grace, not fidgeting or nervous. Just waiting. For me.

How did that happen?

My hammering heart was trying to choke me and ruin my evening. I ran my palm down the front of my shirt, a burgundy-striped number that had Fairfine Cinemas embroidered on the left chest. Not my usual choice of attire for a first date. I'd have felt much more at ease in something feminine, like that peach top I'd been eyeing in the window two doors down at Cindy's Apparel. But... this would have to do. The clothes I had on were clothes that Mr. Masen had seen me in almost every day.

Deep breaths. "Mr. Masen," I said as I came up to him.

He shook his head. "Edward," he murmured.

"Edward," I mouthed, getting acquainted with his name on my tongue. I was feeling ridiculous that I'd never asked after his first name before now.

"Do you have your ticket?"

I shuffled my purse around and took out the ticket, holding it up for him to see.

He took it, and then took my hand.

And if that didn't feel perfect, then I wasn't a woman.

Our stubs were passed back and forth to Wes, the usher who was collecting tickets. Then Edward led me to the end of the hall.

"Wait," I slowed. "Aren't we in theater five?"

"Yes," he spoke with amused patience and an uncomplicated smile. The door he opened led to a part of the theater that I'd never been in before. A set of stairs brought us to the projection floor. It was very dark, and I had to rely completely on Edward's guidance, and his hand in mine.

I never felt one ounce of trepidation.

Edward opened a door just off to the left at theater five's projection station. It was a small, secluded balcony. I never knew it existed.

"Oh, my goodness..."

"We have special seats tonight," he spoke at my ear. His bottom lip brushed my earlobe. I couldn't help the slight shiver that accompanied his accidental touch.

The balcony box was completely hidden from the spectators in the theater below. No one looking up could tell that there was a balcony above and behind them.

"I don't know what to say, Edward. I didn't even know you were... interested in me."

"I am. I've been working up the nerve to ask you on a date. I decided that today was the day. No more wondering."

I glanced through the darkness to Edward, disappointed that I couldn't get a better look at him in the dim lighting.

"This has been very surprising..."

I could tell he nodded. "It's okay if you don't want to do this again. I knew I was taking a chance when I bought the ticket for you. I'll understand if you'd rather not see me in this capacity."

"No... it's not that. I'm... I'm very glad you asked me. I'd been wondering about you, too."

"You have?" His voice was thick with surprise.

I managed to stifle a giggle at his eager question. "Yes. I've been very curious about you, Mr. Masen."

The big screen came to life in front of us, and I caught the flash of Edward's devastating smile.

"Well, I'd like to get to know Bella Swan..."

I could feel the warmth of Edward's hand, though his skin didn't touch mine.

My fingers itched to touch him.

I heard his breaths when the movie got quiet.

I stole surreptitious glances of his profile. Sometimes his eyes were on me.

I got caught up in the suspenseful moments of the film, nearly on the edge of my seat.

The moments of passion had me thinking about the man sitting next to me.

Each breath was filled with the clean scent of him. My fingers inched closer to his. I was trying for an accidental touch, a simple intimacy of the most delicious kind. The anticipation of what was to come in our relationship had my heart racing. That, and I had no idea where our relationship was going – this was all so very new and unexpected.

But I loved this feeling, almost like I was a teenager again.

Real surprise came when Edward captured my sneaky hand, giving it a squeeze and shooting me a knowing smile.

I don't think I would mind it if he kissed me...

My pulse quickened further when his thumb began to stroke the outside curve of my palm.

Tendrils of hair began tickling the side of my face.

It was Edward's breath, teasing me, touching me in ways that I craved – didn't know I craved – but in that instant, I _needed_.

The brush of his moist lip at the corner of my mouth seduced me, convinced me to turn and meet him. Our lips introduced themselves to each other. Tiny licks, tips of tongues, the play of ripe, supple skin against willing, waiting flesh.

I didn't know I needed this. And I certainly didn't know that it was Mr. Masen – Edward – that I needed it from.

Out of nowhere, the sudden urge to mount him came into the forefront of my mind. I found a great seat straddling his lap.

His lips weren't just touching me – they were scorching me – prompting me to burn for him from the inside out.

It didn't matter that he was just a janitor with lips that I wanted to eat like candy. He was sustenance and I was starved for everything he had to give me.

Words like "Beautiful" and "Sweet" slipped from between our kisses, words meant for me. For the both of us.

"Touch me."

"More."

"...Wanted you."

"Don't stop."

My shirt landed in my unoccupied seat.

Hot hands flayed my nerve endings as they blazed upward. A groan vibrated around me. Edward palmed my breasts.

I made quick work of the buttons on Edward's shirt and splayed my hands on his pecs. My hands _knew_ him by the time I reached for his fly.

He pushed me to my feet and stripped me, himself, until there was nothing between us. I melted as his fingertips trailed from my cheek, over my sensitive neck, the rounded side of my breast, and further downward. I shivered and gasped as his hand touched the plush softness of my belly, the ample curve of my hip, until his hands grasped my backside and he lifted me against him. His eager arousal was red-hot iron between my thighs.

"You're all fiery silk. You feel perfect." Another hot kiss wreaked havoc before he said, "Stop me now if you don't want this."

"Shh. Sit," I whispered into his ear.

He took me down with gusto, slouching to accommodate me on his thighs. He was hot and heavy and standing proud for me. A tremor quaked through Edward's body as I took him in hand and stroked him.

"Bella," he groaned and pulled me to his mouth. The friction of our sliding skin drove me wild. Just a slight roll of my hips, and he would be mine.

"Hold still," he growled. He shifted me, took me and I took him. And then I couldn't keep still anymore.

We'd already been swept away, but now, the culmination of our runaway passion was all that carried us.

I bit my lip as my climax ground to a vice-like halt, exploding, and Edward bucked to completion beneath me. I laid my damp forehead on his sweaty chest, almost afraid to look into his eyes.

There were no regrets as I clung to Edward in replete happiness and uttered, "Wow..."

Edward chuckled – a satisfied sound. "I really hadn't planned for anything like that to happen tonight, Bella. I..." He stopped and gathered me closer, tighter in his arms. "I don't want to let you go."

"You don't have to," I said.

The movie continued, but we only watched each other. The silver light from the screen played over Edward's face, and I found it dear.

The kiss I gave him then was the most heartfelt kiss I'd ever given anyone in my life.

Edward responded with the same sweet passion. Gone was the mad frenzy that had held us captive only minutes before. Now, something different was guiding us. Warm and sweet and precious.

"Bella, I want you in my life. More than anything else."

I sighed, content and happy – warmed by his words. "We'll make it work, Edward. This... feels so right."

"There are probably some things you need to know about me..."

"It doesn't matter. I don't care if you're a janitor or manager, or whatever you are. We'll figure things out. Everything will be fine. I'll get a better job. Something's bound to open back up in my field."

Edward chuckled, bouncing my face off his chest. I looked up at him with an amused smile. "What's funny?"

"We'll never have to worry about money, Bella."

"Everyone has to worry about money, Edward."

"Maybe. But not me. I'm... let's just say I'm well-off."

I paused for several breaths, searching Edward's serious eyes. "You are," I whispered. "Well... what are you doing here? Why are you wasting your time here?"

Edward leaned back in his seat, bringing me to rest higher on his chest. "I knew the owner of this theater before she died. She was a sweet lady, a good friend of my family. She left an autistic son behind. His care requires special services, and it is costly. His care is solely funded by the income from this theater. This place would have closed when she died, and her son would have suffered for it. I couldn't let that happen. That's why I'm here."

I absorbed all his words. "Edward... do you even draw a paycheck?"

"No. There's no need."

Yep. Edward was the most selfless man I'd ever met. Ever.

"...And the Soup Kitchen?"

"Oh! That's one of my best projects. I supply the funds to the Soup Kitchen."

Yeah. This was surreal.

"How is it you're still a single man?"

"Hmm," he pondered. "I'm not."

My happy little cloud just transformed into an angry thunderhead.

"Uh... What?" I pulled away from his chest.

"Yeah... turns out I'm dating this really sweet woman who works at the Soup Kitchen. I couldn't help it. She stole my heart."

My ire had been lit with a flaming torch. "And you're..."

His lips trapped my mad words, cutting me off with a lusty kiss. His hands cupped my face in the most gentle, loving way.

"Bella," he whispered as the end credits began to roll. "I'm yours."

* * *

**A/N: This is a re-post. **

** Plot Bunny credit has to be given to Sandy over at Southern Fanfiction Review. It was all her idea! I'm just glad she let me play with it. :)**

**Special thanks to twinightout for always seeing the things I'm too blind to see.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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